


Make My Day

by Mums_the_Word



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Knife Wound, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mums_the_Word/pseuds/Mums_the_Word
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter worries when an out-of-state FBI field office wants to "borrow" Neal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make My Day

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during Season One.  
> Beta credit goes to Treon.

       Neal hadn’t been working with Peter for very long when a request came in through official channels…all above board, and in triplicate. The Baltimore branch of the FBI wanted to “borrow” Neal Caffrey. It seemed that the Walters Art Gallery was questioning the authenticity of a Celtic manuscript written in old Gaelic, and their experts in “Charm City,” as Baltimore dubbed itself, were stymied. Since it was well documented in the FBI database that Neal was proficient in many obscure languages, they checked and discovered that old Gaelic was one of them. Ergo the request was made to utilize his talents on site so that he could definitively determine the legitimacy of the alleged ancient pages.

      Hughes was all for the plan and told Peter that this could only enhance the New York office’s unparalleled reputation as the go-to place for preeminent expertise on art crimes. Peter smiled inwardly. Who would have thought that the old fox harbored such hubris?

      “I’ll clear my calendar for the week and temporarily re-assign my cases to Jones and Diana,” Peter said.

      Hughes peered at him closely before remarking, “Peter, there’s no need for you to go. If the Baltimore guys want Caffrey, it’s on them to come and pick him up, and it’s up to them to return him when they’re done.”

      “Reese, Neal is not a library book that can be checked out and then returned to the shelf after you’re finished with him. Besides, I’m not sure that just anyone can really keep him from getting into trouble if I’m not there to ride herd on his ass,” Peter responded.

      “For God’s sake, Peter,” Reese huffed, “even though the tracking anklet will be removed for this little road trip, he’ll be transported by more than one agent and most likely in handcuffs. So, I’m sure they are quite capable of handling anything he tries.”

      This got Peter’s back up, even if it was his boss dictating terms. “Reese, I’ve been fighting an uphill battle getting this kid to trust me. I think I’ve been making some inroads but the scenario that you’re painting could derail any headway that I’ve made.”

      Hughes looked askance at Peter and narrowed his eyes, but before he had the opportunity to continue, Peter surprised himself by toeing a line in the sand. Peter didn’t realize how possessive he had become until just now when somebody was threatening to take away his toy.

      “I am responsible for Neal until his sentence is up. I took on that job willingly, even knowing the consequences if I was wrong about him. In effect, I own him and that means that I own any mischief that he gets into. So, for my own peace of mind, and probably yours, you should let me take Caffrey to Baltimore.” Peter was adamant. He didn’t know what he would do if his boss smacked him down for insubordination.

      Ever cantankerous, Reese Hughes surprisingly capitulated with a frown. “It’s your funeral, Peter. Don’t expect me to send flowers if it all goes to hell. Close the door on your way out!”

~~~~~~~~~~

        So, Peter and Neal set out for Baltimore the next morning in Peter’s car. Neal complained the whole time about the four hour drive. He fiddled with the radio until Peter threatened to make him ride in the back seat. Neal threatened car sickness if Peter tried it. Neal wanted to know why they hadn’t taken the Amtrak Acela high speed train down the coast. It would have been faster, a lot more comfortable, and it had a dining car, he had informed Peter.

      “Because the Bureau is on a budget, Neal, and there’s just no way that I’m comfortable mingling with hundreds of people in Penn Station with so many convenient exits and with you sans tracker,” Peter said patiently.

      “Would it have made a difference if I had promised not to run?” Neal was curious to hear Peter’s response.

      “Would you have made that promise, Neal?” Peter was also curious.

      He never got an answer, just a musical laugh and a wide, sunny smile. So that probably answered that question.

      They had left New York before dawn to take advantage of a whole day’s work in the museum. Hours later, Peter used his navigation system to steer them off the Jones Falls Expressway onto the streets of downtown Baltimore until they found the Walters Gallery. Two FBI agents awaited them on the front steps. They looked suspiciously at Peter when they realized that Neal was unfettered, but wisely kept their counsel. However, they continued their vigilance and remained unobtrusively in the background when introductions were made with the curator who seemed fascinated but also contemptuous towards Neal. Peter was surprised when Neal didn’t put himself out to exude the Caffrey charm. The conman simply sat down and started his examination of the artifact.

      Neal worked diligently through the day, only taking a quick break for a lunch sandwich and coffee. By 5 PM Peter had enough sitting around watching Neal’s eyes get redder and his squint more pronounced as he hunched over the papers.

      “Okay, Buddy, time to wrap it up for today. We’ll come back tomorrow and you can pick up where you left off,” he informed his partner.

      With that pronouncement, the two hovering agents moved in with handcuffs towards Neal.

      “Whoa, whoa,” Peter demanded. “What’s going on here?”

      “Agent Burke, our orders are to escort your CI to a secure lockup overnight when he finishes his work for the day,” the more senior of the men stated.

      Neal’s blue eyes grew wide as he looked towards Peter.

      “That’s not happening on my watch,” stated Peter emphatically.

      “Sir, we have our orders.” The agent was equally unequivocal.

      “Well, you can just make some calls to change your orders or Neal and I will get back into my car and hit the Interstate heading north!” Peter threw down the gauntlet.

      In the end, after those phone calls were made, the agents departed, but with a promise to return the next day at 9 AM “to do their jobs!”

      Neal was unusually quiet on the ride towards the Baltimore Inner Harbor where their hotel was located. Peter supposed it could be fatigue, but he suspected it had to be something else. Over room service dinner, Peter tilted his head quizzically and asked the question that had been on his mind for most of the day. “Neal, how come you weren’t more sociable with that curator today? That’s not like you, Mr. Congeniality.”

      Neal took his time responding. Peter guessed that he was debating how much truth to put into his answer. Eventually, he heaved a sigh and said, “Peter, he wasn’t worth the effort because he looked at me like I was a cockroach. It wasn’t that he was afraid of me because he knew that I was a criminal; he was ‘disdainful’ that I was a criminal and he was indignant that he had to let me touch his precious manuscript with my dirty, illicit fingers. He was condescending and arrogant.”

      Wow! Peter was surprised at that response. “So, you’re saying that he hurt your feelings, Neal? I probably hurt your feelings all the time and it’s like water off a duck’s back.”

      “That’s different, Peter,” was all Neal said. Then he put an end to the conversation without elaborating, saying he had first dibs on the shower. Glancing at the two double beds in the room, he also remarked that he sure hoped Peter didn’t intend to handcuff him to one of them!

      “Nah, I’ve arranged to have ‘Heckle and Jeckle’ stationed outside the door,” Peter jokingly snorted.

      However, Peter was a bit worried, although he’d never admit it to Neal. He only dozed lightly throughout the long hours, his ears attuned to the soft steady breathing of the young man in the bed next to his. He roused with every shift that Neal made during the night. He definitely would need lots of strong coffee in the morning, but it would be worth it to gain a toehold in building trust with Neal.

~~~~~~~~~

     Upon arriving at the museum the next morning, Peter and Neal discovered two new agents undoubtedly assigned to give Heckle and Jeckle a break. The pair were as somber and unfriendly as the two before them. Peter suspected that he probably now had a reputation in this neck of the woods of not playing nice with others. It really didn’t bother him at all. He settled in with a newspaper that he had brought with him this time to stave off the boredom of waiting for Neal to do his thing.

     Neal’s day proved to be fruitful. By late afternoon, he had found discrepancies in the text. The language was imprecise for the era of the book’s provenance, and he declared it a forgery, albeit an impressive one. At Peter’s raised eyebrows, Neal slowly shook his head and the unasked question was answered. No, it wasn’t one of his works.

     The curator fluttered around, alternately looking annoyed and then bereft that his museum didn’t possess the real deal. He pointedly ignored Neal and thanked Peter profusely, saying the Bureau would get an official letter of gratitude from the Walters as well as from the City of Baltimore. As he vigorously pumped Peter’s hand, Neal sauntered out of the examination room to the main floor with the two agents falling in step on either side of him. When Peter was able to extricate himself from the officious, irritating man, he found Neal, flanked by the Men in Black, leaning against a marble column in the museum’s entry.

     “Gentlemen, it has indeed been a pleasure, although I’m sure not for you,” said Peter facetiously. “When Neal and I step outside these doors, your day’s work is done. See ya!” With that smug remark, Peter grabbed Neal by the arm and all but dragged him out of the building.

     “Wow! ‘Peter Burke, Alpha Male’ is a real turn on for me,” quipped Neal.

     Peter took a playful swipe at Neal’s head. His CI laughed and mischievously danced away.

     “Now there’s the Neal Caffrey I know and love. Welcome back!” extolled Peter. “Come on, Einstein, we’re eating out tonight. We’ll try one of those fancy restaurants on the harbor. You’ve earned it. The hotel is already paid for until tomorrow morning, so we’ll leave then.”

~~~~~~~~~~

      Over dinner, Peter saw that Neal was relaxed and contented again, so he took the opportunity to probe a bit more into what made the young man tick.

      “Neal, I still don’t understand why that pompous ass at the museum pissed you off so much. I’m sure that you’ve run into people from time to time who don’t have a high opinion of you.”

     “Yeah, but usually not people who don’t even know me.”

     After a bit, he continued thoughtfully, “I know that I come with a warning label attached, and I realize that a lot of the White Collar agents in New York probably have the same mindset as that guy, but they tolerate me because of you. They like and respect you, so I get to ride on the coattails of those sentiments. I know that I’m deluding myself, but it helps to make that attitude not rankle as much, and I can forget for a time that I’m just a commodity that has to produce to keep my tenure. And, for the most part, you don’t treat me like a criminal.”

     Peter realized that his bond with the young conman was still in the tenuous stages, and he knew that Neal had no real allegiance to the FBI, so he formulated his response very carefully. “Neal, I don’t think of you as a ‘commodity,’ and you know that those ‘I’ll throw you back in prison’ remarks aren’t meant to demean you. I guess it’s just become part of our shtick. I respect you for your talent and your genius, and I want this to work. Hell, I’m just going to put it out there…I like you, Neal, and that’s why I keep you around.” Peter let that lay for a few minutes as he carefully watched Neal’s face for tells.

     Neal refused to look up from his plate so that wasn’t a possibility. The server was suddenly at Peter’s elbow with the check, so the moment was lost. It was only a little after 9:00 PM, so Peter suggested that they stroll around the harbor and see the sights before returning to their hotel which was within walking distance.

     Baltimore really isn’t a big city. All the upscale tourist attractions and night life are concentrated in the few blocks around the harbor and nearby ethnic “Little Italy” and gentrified “Fells Point.” An unwary out-of-town guest who wandered just a few blocks north could find themselves in some rough environs. With the poor economy, however, even the thieves and hoodlums had to adjust, so sometimes the areas overlapped.

     As Peter and Neal made their way up a side street towards their hotel, two tough- looking characters in hoodies sidled up to them threateningly. In an instant, one was brandishing a switchblade and demanding their wallets. Neal saw Peter’s “Alpha Male” start to rear its head, and apparently so did the thug because he immediately pulled back his arm and slashed at the FBI agent.

     Now Neal was of the mindset that you didn’t confront danger head-on if you had an avenue of escape. But this was Peter who was in danger, so he did the unthinkable. He lunged at the thug who certainly wasn’t expecting it, and the knife clattered from his hand to the ground. Neal was nothing if not nimble as he snatched it up and channeled Clint Eastwood in mood and stance when the veteran actor uttered those now infamous words ……. “You feel lucky? Now do ya, punk? Come on, make my day!”

     It was enough to shock the two would-be attackers and they turned tail and disappeared around a corner. Neal immediately went to Peter to assess how injured he was. When Peter took off his jacket and pulled up his sleeve, a long, deep wound was bleeding profusely.

     “C’mon, Peter, Harbor Hospital is two blocks over. You need the emergency room to clean and stitch that up!”

     “How do you know where the closest hospital is, Neal?” Peter was perplexed.

     “Well, I thought it would be prudent to memorize a map of the city before we got into town, Peter.”

     At Peter’s raised eyebrow, Neal simply added, “I always like to have a backup plan. You know, just in case.”

     Peter smiled, “That’s another reason why I keep you around, Dirty Harry!”

 

 


End file.
